


Kiss You

by Unknown



Series: You And Only You [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AM - Freeform, Also yes, I'm Sorry, I?, IT IS MY LIFE BLOOD, M/M, Other, THIS IS SO LONG, WHAT HAVE I BECOME?, Who, Who am I, also, do others ship, i do in fact, i love it, just sibling turmoil, love Jon/Sansa sibling turmoil, not 24601, not like, oh my god this, or is it just me?, romatic, that's for fucking sure, tyrion/bronn/shae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 10:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unknown/pseuds/Unknown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>anonymous asked:</p><p>Would love another fic in the universe you wrote the "Marry Me" fic in! Was so fantastic. Maybe a few snap shots of Jon and Robb growing up? Like from Ned bringing little adopted Jon home to Robb proposing to Jon and some in between?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss You

**Author's Note:**

> SANSA, ARYA, BRAN AND RICKON'S AGES MIGHT NOT MATCH UP PERF WITH WHAT'S IN THE FIRST PART OF THIS I AM SO SORRY I DON'T EVEN KNOW LEAVE ME ALONE I AM SICK OF THIS FIC GOODBYE CRUEL WORLD I TRIED TO JUSTIFY THEY'RE PRIOR BEHAVIOR IN THE LAST FIC WITH THEIR AGES IN THIS FIC AT THE END LEAVE ME ALONE
> 
> *jumps off cliff*
> 
> And now, the weather.
> 
> WAIT. Wait a minute.
> 
> Wrong fandom.

The way his mother explains it, Jon is not their real brother, but he’s going to live with them anyway. The way his father explains it, Jon is the son of a friend who passed away and Ned was asked to find him a good family to live with.

“And I know of no other family as good as ours,” Ned says, sitting Jon on the bottom bunk of Robb’s brand new bunk bed set. Robb squints at Jon a bit.

“What’s his name gonna be?” Robb asks. “Jon Stark?”

“Jon Snow,” Catelyn says from the doorway. “Adopted into the family, so everyone knows.” With that she’s gone and Ned sighs, knowing he can’t win this one.

“But I’ll love him like my brother,” Robb insists. “So who cares?” He’s four and so is Jon, with wildly curly hair, similar to Robb’s.

“That’s the spirit!” Ned says, patting him on the back, leaving the boys to mingle amongst themselves so he can go talk some sense into his wife. Adopting a child, after all, is not the end of the world.

“You mean it?” Jon says quietly.

“Like brothers,” Robb says with a smile. He hops onto the bed beside Jon. “But since I’ve lived here longer, I call top bunk. Okay?”

Jon’s smile is blinding and maybe that’s where it starts. “Okay.”

* * *

When Sansa is born, Robb is unsure how to feel. He and Jon are five years old and watching the bundle of squirming pink sleep in her bassinet. Jon, however, is thrilled.

“She’s so pretty,” he says looking at her on his tip-toes. “She looks like your mommy.”

“Our mommy,” Robb corrects, but it’s out of habit. The first time Jon had called Catelyn his mother she’d given him a dark look and Jon had never tried again. It didn’t mean Robb was going to give up though. Either way, Jon didn’t answer. “I think it’s icky.”

“I think it’s great,” Jon says softly, so as not to wake the baby. “I like having more brothers an’ sisters.”

“I’m not enough?” Robb says, his little heart feeling hurt for the first time.

“’Course you are,” Jon reassures him. “But you’re different,” Jon says quietly, looking away, his little cheeks going apple red.

“Oh yeah?” Robb asks confused. “How?”

“I like Sansa,” Jon says. “But… I _like_ like you.”

“I don’t get it,” Robb says, but he wants to.

“Me neither,” Jon admits. “But I asked Ygritte about it at school, and that’s what she told me.”

* * *

Sansa is a red haired delight, but it’s when Arya comes two years later that Jon is the most captivated. Arya has darker hair and she likes to smile at Jon more than Sansa did. Even though Catelyn doesn’t let him hold the baby, he still sits by her crib sometimes and just talks.

“… and I think you look like Daddy a lot more than your mom, but that’s okay,” Jon says one day as she naps. “Cos Sansa looks like your mom enough for all of you.”

“You’re weird,” Robb tells him, but sits next to him. Sansa is asleep, down for her own nap, and the two of them had been playing hide and seek. “Also, found you.”

Jon shrugs. “I feel like Arya’s gonna be a lot more different than Sansa.”

“Why?”

“Dunno.” He looks at Robb. “Why am I more different than you?”

“Duh, you’re adopted. Arya’s not adopted though,” Robb says, bumping shoulders. Jon is quiet though and Robb realizes his words might have been taken harshly. “Wait, that’s not a bad thing!”

“Your mom thinks so.”

“Our mom,” Robb insists. “And no, I dunno. Mom is weird too. See? You guys have something in common!” He smiles in delight but Jon is not convinced. Robb does what he would do if anyone else was upset: he reaches out a hand and takes Jon’s and squeezes it. “You’re good enough for me,” Robb insists. “You are. I like your weird.”

They don’t let go of each other until Arya starts to cry and they need to run out for fear of being blamed for waking the baby.

* * *

Bran is born soon after and it’s a favorite thing of Jon’s and Robb’s to watch all of the children clamber around in the playroom, the two oldest in charge of them. Sansa is already walking and talking and she asks Robb to braid her hair which she refuses to cut. Arya toddles over to Jon a lot, who’s watching Bran carefully in his bouncer.

“There’s a whole lot of us,” Jon says absentmindedly as he catches Arya before she falls. Then he’s taking Bran’s fingers out of his mouth and smoothing down his baby hair with a kiss.

Robb watches, mesmerized, something tingling in his young chest.

“You’re good at kids,” he blurts. His eight year old mouth can’t stop.

Jon laughs, brushing a curl from his face. “I don’t think you can be good _at_ kids. Maybe good _with_ kids.”

“But you are,” Robb says excitedly. He frowns at the braid. “I don’t think I did this right.”

“You dropped a strand of hair,” Jon says without looking. “You always drop a strand.” He goes over to help but Sansa frowns.

“No!” she says sitting on Robb’s lap. “Robb do it!”

Robb makes a face and is about to say something, but Jon just sighs sadly and nods, walking away.

* * *

They’re twelve when Rickon is born and the doctors say that Catelyn should refrain from having more children.

Rickon is small and fragile, and Jon gets apprehensive thinking about it. Robb knows that he’ll be fine, but Jon doesn’t like leaving things to chance.

“It’s not chance,” Robb says. “It’s science and medicine.”

“Doesn’t matter. And your mom is sick. This is… this is scary. Robb, I’m scared,” Jon whispers. “What if-?”

“Nope!” Robb says. “ _Our_ mom is gonna be fine. And Sansa wouldn’t stop with the what-ifs all day. Were we that bad at seven? Ugh.” He hops onto the bottom bunk, still Jon’s, and lays next to his brother. They hold hands, because they always have. “Arya was wondering where you were at the party to welcome mom and Rickon home last night. So was I. I mean, even Bran and Rickon were there and they’re babies.”

“Your mom said I probably shouldn’t go since no one would be interested in me anyway, so I just… told Dad I was sick,” Jon admits sheepishly.

“That’s not fair!” Robb exclaims, sitting up so fast he slams his head into the bottom of the top bunk.

“Are you okay?” Jon asks, more careful, and he brings Robb out into the light of their room. He has a bump on his head and it’s a bit bruisey, but besides that, he’s fine. “Just a bump. You gotta be careful, Robb.” Jon pokes at it and rubs it a bit when Robb flinches.

“Kiss it better?” Robb jokes, but suddenly, there are soft lips on his forehead, kissing beside his bruise and he feels his throat get all stuffed up like with cotton. He swallows hard and when Jon pulls back, there’s a high blush on his cheeks.

“Are we allowed to do that to each other?” Robb asks quietly.

“We’re not blood-related,” Jon says with a shrug. “I think it’s okay.”

“How okay? And like, where?” Robb asks curiously, scooting closer to him.

But Jon looks away. “I don’t know.” And then he sighs. “Robb…”

But Catelyn calls them down for supper – well she says, ‘Sweetheart, dinner! Bring Jon too.’ – and Robb never does get to know what Jon was going to say.

* * *

Jon dates Ygritte while they’re in high school. To be fair, Robb dates Jeyne, but he’s starting to wonder if that’s only to get back at Jon. Ygritte has long, curly red hair and light eyes, and she’s tough as nails. She and Robb get along fine and it’s one day that he realizes she might be a female version of him.

That’s also when he realizes, with her dark hair and eyes and that thoughtful mentality, that Jeyne is a bit of female version of Jon.

He wonders if he’s going to hell, briefly, for maybe having a very big crush on his brother, but then remembers they aren’t blood related and feels a bit better about it. Now the only thing was to convince Jon that Robb was a worthy investment and to let Jeyne down nicely.

Jeyne is easy, actually, understanding that it wouldn’t be fair to either of them if Robb continued on with their relationship without actually liking her anymore. They part as friends, and it’s okay, in the end. Jon is another story, as he’s dating Ygritte still. And Robb can’t exactly just rip them apart.

They’re seventeen when Sansa goes through a rebellious stage that seems to center around crushing on one of the Lannister’s boys and hating everyone who tells her he’s shit. Mostly Jon and they’re father, as they are the ones that tell her the most and unashamedly. But since there’s the family expectation that she needs to respect her father in public and there’s none of that concerning Jon, she begins her reign of cruelty.

She’s _horrible_.

There’s a point where she tells Jon that he’s not even really part of the family and that anyone, even a Lannister, is better than Jon. Jon doesn’t cry in front of her, but he does when he gets into their room. The beds are separate now that they’re older but Robb still lays beside him on his mattress, letting him unwind.

“She’s a brat,” Robb says. “And I’m making her apologize.”

“No, don’t. She’s right, I could see your mother holding herself back so she wouldn’t agree with her.” He sniffles and tries not to sob. “Oh god, what am I even doing here? Will your mother kick me out next year? Jesus.”

“Don’t even think like that!” Robb snaps, sitting them both up. It’s the first time ever that he hasn’t corrected Jon and said _our mother_ instead. “I won’t let her. I won’t let any of them. I’ve always had you Jon, by my side, where you should be, with me by yours where _I_ should be. No one, and I mean _no one_ , not even my mother, is taking that away from either of us.”

“What are… what are you talking about?” Jon says wiping at his eyes. “Robb…”

“I… I can’t,” Robb says, deflating. “You… you’re…”

“I’m your brother,” Jon finishes bitterly.

“No, you’re dating Ygritte,” Robb says, rubbing his eyes, his face heating.

Jon blinks at him, face breaking into a smile. “No,” he says. “No, no I broke up with her like, yesterday. We’re much better friends and she’s a bit scary to be honest, no offense to her and – and – Robb do you... mean that?”

Robb responds with a kiss, pressing close to Jon and taking his mouth as his own. It’s sweet and brief as they hear the children coming up the stairs. They pull back – just in case – and press their foreheads together as they laugh.

“I’ve been dying to do that for years,” Jon admits, his mouth swollen and red.

“Yeah? Good,” Robb says with a laugh. “We’re gonna be _doing it_ for years. Just so you know. Gotta catch up.”

“I guess we do,” Jon says, smiling the smile that Robb is sure started it all.

* * *

A year later and Bran is in a wheelchair, won’t speak to anyone after having come out of a coma. Sansa seems to have learned her lesson with Joffrey Baratheon (even though everyone knows he’s a Lannister through and through, two times around), but she’s still snappish with Jon. Jon has learned to deal.

They graduate from school that year and, unsurprisingly to their friends and family who are none the wiser, the two almost-adults get a flat together in the city, not too far from home just in case they need the help. Their first few days are full of kissing and christening, doing it properly for the first time in a bed that they share, something of their own for once. They both have jobs, Jon working for their Uncle Benjen’s company and Robb picking up the family business with their father. It’s nice.

“I think we should have the kids over for a bit,” Jon says one day. “Bran’s been down, even worse since we left. I just think…” He trails off.

“Okay,” Robb agrees. “I’ll ask,” because they both know things are more likely to get done with Robb asking around.

They get the kids for a weekend, but only Arya and Bran end up coming down. Sansa had refused to come and Catelyn had refused to send Rickon, stating that he was ‘too young to be gallivanting in the city’ or some such other rubbish. But Bran and Arya have a blast, exploring the city, staying up late and sleeping in the guest room that they’re under the impression is Jon’s room.

“Where will you sleep?” Arya asks, suspicious if the squint of her eyes is anything to go by.

“I slept with Robb for the first ten years of my life,” Jon exaggerates. “I think I’ll be fine.”

They find out anyway, though.

It’s an accident, Arya pushing Bran into the kitchen just as Robb is kissing Jon good morning. Of course, the children freeze and Bran looks on in horror while Arya crows, “I _knew_ it! You two are _horrible_ liars.”

Cue Robb and Jon explaining to Arya and Bran that it’s okay because they aren’t actually blood-related, don’t the kids remember Catelyn making it painfully aware for the entirety of their lives? And they do, they do remember and understand but _still_.

“Jon’s our brother, anyways,” Bran says, eating ice cream. He’s sitting in Jon’s lap, Arya laying on Robb on the other sofa. “It’s still kind of weird. You guys knew each other before we were around, we get it. But…”

“But we grew up with you guys as our brothers,” Arya says. “So. Whatever. But I _knew_ it!” She cackles in glee and Robb rolls his eyes shoving a marshmallow into her mouth to quiet her.

“Yes, we get it. You’re part seer or something.” Robb blows a raspberry into her neck. “You can’t tell mother,” Robb says suddenly.

“Or our father,” Jon says smoothing down Bran’s stray, fly-away hairs.

“Not yet, at least,” Robb says. He sighs. “We need time to get settled in and think of a way to break it to them.”

“How about Sansa and Rickon?” Bran asks naively.

Jon smothers him in a hug, saying, “Oh Bran, I wish. But let’s just keep it between us four for now, yeah?”

“Sansa would blab because she thinks it’s nice to be a bitch right now and Rickon is too young to keep a secret,” Arya says bluntly. Robb squawks at the language and Jon chokes on his marshmallow.

“Arya-” Jon starts.

“-language!” Robb finishes.

Bran and Arya stare at the both of them and then at each other. “Yeah, they’re gonna be stuck together forever,” Bran says with a wrinkle to his nose.

“And they’re gonna be those kinds of parents,” Arya finishes.

“Wait, what?” Jon says.

“What’s wrong with that?” Robb asks, looking at his brother and boyfriend.

The kids dissolve into laughter and leave their older brothers in the dust.

* * *

Jon tells his friends at work.

Sam just blinks hard and says, “So, wait. Your _boyfriend_ Robb is also your _brother_ Robb?” He makes a face. “I don’t think you’re supposed to do that.”

“I’m _adopted_!” Jon says in exasperation, throwing his hands up in the air.

“And how long has this been going on then?” Ygritte asks and Jon cringes. “C’mon. Tell me, boy.”

“… might have been about a day or so after we um… _parted ways_ in year eleven,” Jon mutters. Ygritte looks none too impressed.

“You were what, seventeen? You’re twenty-one? You’ve kept this from you two best mates for four years?” She shoves him as Sam snorts in derision.

“Jon! Oh come now, Jon, how is that even fair?” Sam complains, arms crossed, not looking like he’s going to stop Ygritte any time soon like he normally would.

“Ugh, you two are the worst. The other lads didn’t even care!” Jon exclaims and then regrets it when the both of them turn death glares on him.

“You told the other lads before you told _us_!?” Ygritte practically whisper-screeches.

“Jon!” Sam says, sounding hurt. “ _Jon_!”

They don’t talk to him for a week straight, conspiring together and Jon is a bit miserable. Robb is sympathetic at home.

“Ah, you told them didn’t you?” he says when Jon comes home all mopey for the third night in a row. Robb makes his favorite dish for dinner and lets Jon cuddle as much as he wants later on.

Ygritte and Sam get over it though. They shove him around and start to tease him mercilessly and Jon prefers that over the isolation any day. Eventually, they threaten to kick his ass if he ever keeps something that important from them again. Well, Ygritte threatens to; Sam just agrees to film the whole thing and spread it on the internet.

That’s enough of a threat on its own, thanks very much.

* * *

 Sansa finds out from Jon, surprisingly enough.

They’re home for Christmas and Robb is busy spoiling the younger children to pieces while Jon is sitting on the roof, trying to avoid the party life that Catelyn is so hell-bent on excluding him from. He doesn’t expect to find Sansa up there, tears almost frozen to her pale, freckly cheeks.  She flinches when she sees Jon, hiding her face, but he sees the split lip anyway.

“Who?” he asks quietly, feeling the anger brewing under his skin. She’s still his little sister, even if she doesn’t want to be.

She answers, surprisingly enough. “Joffrey.” It’s more a broken sob, but she doesn’t get hysterical, lets the tears fall quietly. She’s strong, just like her mother.

“I thought you were done with that bastard?” Jon says and it’s a bit too harsh because Sansa snaps back, “ _You’re_ the bastard.” They sit silently and then Jon sighs.

“I thought you were done with that sorry excuse of a product of incest?” he tries again and Sansa starts to laugh and then cry. He holds her close, their legs dangling off the edge of the roof.

“You can’t tell my mother. You can’t tell our father,” because even Sansa knows how things go. “You can’t tell Robb, you can’t tell _anyone_.” She curls up against him. “And just because you know doesn’t mean we’re best friends now.”

Jon ignores the last part. “Can I tell Tyrion?” he asks.

“Why him?”

“Because he’s the only one who knows how to reprimand the little shit and he’s fucking fearless about it, too,” Jon admits.

“Because of his boyfriend,” Sansa says, probably referencing Bronn.

“I actually think it’s Shae that’s the real terror of the operation. Bronn is the diversion. Tyrion is the brains. But she’s scary,” Jon says with a laugh.

“That’s because you like the boys,” Sansa says with a huff. Then she says, “Sorry. That was mean.”

“No, no, you’re right. I do,” Jon says, deciding to give her this one.

She pulls back. “Really?”

“One boy in particular,” Jon continues, feeling nervous because he’s going to do it, oh god.

“Who?” Sansa says sitting up. She wipes away the tears, careful with her lip and looks at him earnestly.

“You can’t tell anyone. Not your mother or our father. You can’t tell Rickon, you can’t tell anybody,” Jon says, smiling despite his discomfort. “And you can’t judge,” he adds.

Sansa frowns. “So I can tell Robb, Arya and Bran?” she says.

“They already know. Bran and Arya because they walked in on us, Robb because…” He trails off. “Well, because Robb _is_ that one boy in particular.”

Sansa is silent in her shock. When her first words come out, they’re a completely honest, “Mother is going to be furious when you tell her.”

Jon lets out a laugh that sounds too full of relief for his taste. “Yes, yes she is,” he agrees. “Your mother is going to hate me even more because I’ve ruined our brother’s chance at a future with another blue blood.”

“At least you’re not related,” Sansa says. “Like Joffrey’s parents. But I thought you were better than them.” Her words are cruel and she knows it.

“Everyone’s different,” Jon offers desperately.

 “Why’d you tell me? Why didn’t you just let me find out with my mother and father?” Sansa plays with her long braid, doesn’t look at him, out of shame Jon thinks. “There’s no love lost between us.”

“I have _always_ loved you, Sansa,” Jon says fiercely and she looks up with eyes wide with shock. “I have always thought of you as my baby sister. When you were born I was so excited while Robb was too busy making faces. But you were the first real new addition to my tiny family and I loved you _so much_ when you were so small. _Sansa_ ,” Jon says with so much love and passion in his voice that he sees a tear slide down her cheek. “Sansa, you were my _first_ baby sister. You taught me how to be protective and how to love a sibling unconditionally. I wanted to give you everything and make sure no one ever hurt you. And in my five year old mind, Robb and I would be able to do that.” He gently touches at her lip with his thumb. “It literally rips me apart that you won’t let me _… be your brother_.”

“Jon…” she says quietly. She can’t say anything else, it seems.

“You’re eighteen,” he says, stopping her. “I had to tell you the truth. It had to come straight from me. I owe you that much.” He gets up from the edge, dusts off his pants. “I’m in love with our brother,” he says with a shrug and then laughs, yelling from the rooftop, being loud as he pleases.

He’s surprised when Sansa rises as well, takes his hand and hugs him. When they get downstairs, she tugs him onto the floor to dance to the Christmas music coming from the quartet the Starks had hired for the occasion. And when Joffrey comes over to demand a dance from Sansa, Jon doesn’t think twice when he decks him in the face.

Sansa defends Jon until she’s blue in the face and Robert Baratheon laughs and pats Jon on the shoulder, telling him he needed to teach his son to grow a pair and act like a man. Tyrion winks from the back of the room by the bar and Bronn whistles at him. Shae laughs and that alone is satisfaction enough. It’s worth the dressing-down he gets from Catelyn later. It’s worth it for the kisses and sex he gets from Robb later on when he tells him exactly what happened.

And if Sansa goes back to ignoring him when others around and giving him a hard time, only to gently touch his hand when they’re alone and say thank you softly, then Jon thinks it’s worth it too.

* * *

Catelyn and Ned find out a year later, Robb finally telling them. Jon is home, biting his nails and watching the Food Network. Robb had insisted that he go alone, that it would be easier to handle. When he comes back, his face is grim and grey, but there’s a smile fighting at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh god, please tell me they didn’t disown you,” Jon begs, wrapping his arms around him and settling onto the couch with him.

“No, they didn’t disown me, or you, by the way, thanks for asking about yourself, you selfless knob,” Robb grouches. “My mother did throw a fit though. Surprise. Lots of talk about ‘missed opportunities’ and such. Dad just said he’d been waiting for us to own up to it since we were sixteen.”

Jon raises an incredulous eyebrow. “Did you tell him we only got our shit together at seventeen?”

“Yeah,” Robb says, snuggling down into Jon’s arms. “He didn’t believe me until I reminded him we were dating other people at the time and he looked really amazed that we were that blind.”

“How mad at me is your mother?” Jon asks.

“Best to avoid her for a few weeks.”

“That bad?”

“Love, I’d say a month but I don’t want to get you too down in the dumps,” Rob admits.

“Oh fuck,” Jon groans.

“Don’t worry, I think I need to stay away longer than you do.”

“Oh that’s just perfect. So, we hide away in the flat then?”

“Smart man. I knew there was a reason I loved you.”

* * *

A few months later and Ned is knocking on their door, his face marred by a frown.

“Dad?” Jon says in confusion. “Is something going on?”

From the kitchen, Robb yells, “Oi! Father!” He walks out without a shirt on and a hand towel thrown over his shoulder. “What’s up? Something happened?”

Ned makes a face at the both of them and then shakes his head. “Jon… your… _cousin_ got in touch with us.” He pauses. “She wants to meet you.”

Jon freezes. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean… I mean your _actual_ cousin. From your _real_ parents. Her father was brothers with yours.” Ned rubs the back of his neck.

Jon collapses to his knees his heart in his throat and Robb lets out a cry of his own as he rushes over to him. “Jesus man,” he swears at their father. “Give your son a heart attack, why don’t you?” He cups Jon’s face in his hands. “Hey, Jon? You okay, love? Look at me.” Jon finally focuses on him and Robb gives him a soft smile. “Hello there,” and he gives Jon’s nose. “You up to standing?” Jon nods shakily, Robb helping him to his feet.

Robb turns to their father, who has a surprised look on his face. “When do we go?”

* * *

Daenerys Dothraki-Targaryen and her husband Drogo are not what Jon is expecting. Daenerys has snow-white hair and skin, is petite and two years his junior, her eyes crystal clear blue, while her husband is a hulk of a man with dark hair and eyes, tanned skin and hair that goes down his back in the longest braid.

She’s in surprisingly good spirits despite her recent miscarriage and the knowledge that she might never be able to carry children again, though it might be because her husband had awoken from the coma he’d been in for the better part of the year. They’re fluid around each other, an extension of each other’s body, and Jon is amazed by it.

“My brother, he’s dead,” she starts, “well, he’s the one that had you sent away, the idiot.” She rolls her beautiful eyes, sashays her perfect hips, a sweet grin on her lips. “He was not a good man. You are lucky not to have known him.” She turns to Drogo where they are in their kitchen. “Pass me the pan on the top shelf, my moon?”

“Of course, my sun and stars.” He easily reaches it with a swift extension of his arm and has it in her hands in no time. “For you.”

She smiles and laughs and Jon turns to elbow Robb in the stomach to make him stop with the faces as he mock gags. Daenerys catches him anyway and laughs good naturedly.

“Excuse him for being so badly mannered,” Jon says. “He knows better.”

“It is alright,” Daenerys says kindly. She lifts her head and somewhere in time, Jon believes her ancestors were formidable queens. “Many people cower at the complete partnership our marriage has become. They are uncomfortable because we know each other so well and wholly. It’s understandable.” While Robb chokes on the insult, she asks Jon, “He is your partner?”

“Yes,” Jon says with a blush. “He is.” He shoots Robb a look out of the corner of his eye that says ‘Behave!’

“You will do well together,” she says as she prepares them some kind of meal. Jon isn’t complaining; he’ll take what he can get from any living family he has left. She tells him stories of their family into the night and by the time the sky has gone inky black, Robb is asleep on a low couch, head in Jon’s lap, Daenerys curled up with Drogo as she and Jon converse.

“Thank you for this,” Jon says.

“For those with the blood of the dragon, anything,” she responds and Drogo nods solemnly.

Jon sighs. It doesn’t matter which family he has – the Starks or the Targaryens. They’re both equally weirdoes.

Yet, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

* * *

Jon and Robb are twenty six when it happens.

They’d just bought a house together and a litter of wolf-mutt pups, four of which they’d gifted to the children. Then again, they weren’t really children any more. Sansa was twenty-one, a perfect lady accompanied by her Lady. Arya was a headstrong nineteen that still loved to sit in Jon’s lap and cozy up to him. Bran was eighteen, still chair-bound, but happier than ever and a child at heart. Rickon was fourteen and stuck, it seemed, with a lisp that prevented him from saying his r’s very completely. No amount of speech therapy could help him, to Catelyn’s dismay. They all still live with their parents, as is usual with the blueblood type. Jon laughs because he and Robb are literally always the oddballs.

He walks into the house that night, Robb nowhere to be found, though his car was our front. Rolling his eyes, Jon sees Ghost and Grey Wind, the pups he and Robb had kept for themselves, growling and fighting over something. He rolls his eyes and breaks them up.

“Enough you two,” he says, reaching between the two of them to see what they’d been arguing over. It’s a small black box and both pups sit patiently, panting and waiting for him to do something with it. “Well I’m not gonna throw it, so bugger off the two of you.” He does, however, open it.

Jon’s breath catches in his throat.

“It was meant to be a bit more dramatic than that,” Robb says, walking out from the kitchen. He’s in jeans and an under-vest, scratching at his curls. “But I thought, after almost ten years of being together, we’d mind as well make it official. What d’ya say then, brother?” and this time he winks and Jon still can’t breathe, he can’t swallow, he can’t do anything but stare at Robb. “Jon?” Robb says a bit worriedly. He purses his lips and walks up to Jon then, taking his hands, taking the ring and holding it out between them. “Would you do me the immense honor of marrying me?” Robb asks softly.

Jon finally thaws, chokes on his own, “Yes,” and it smothered in kisses by Robb, the pups yipping and nipping at their legs in excitement of their own.

After years of it, this is what it’s come to. And Jon couldn’t have been happier.

* * *

_“He said yes,” Robb says at the dinner table. His mother and father had invited him over that night, just the three of them. He hadn’t been able to keep it in. He looks around at them expectantly, holding his breath, because he’s never been this nervous about anything ever before._

_Ned lets out a roar of laughter and claps him on the back and Catelyn raises a cool eye brow and nods her assent. She hadn’t been the most supportive when Robb had revealed that he was dating his adopted brother, something that had caused tension between him and his mother. She had always desired him to marry someone higher up in stature like their family was, another blue-blood, and she had only agreed to adopt Jon at her husband’s behest, never as close to him as the rest of the family was. But she nods and that is all Robb needs from her._

_Well…_

_“Also, I think we need some assistance planning something… appropriate,” Robb admits. At this Catelyn sits up. She might not admit it, but she likes being asked for help as it puts her above others and makes her useful and valued._

_“That,” she says measuredly, “I can help with.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
